


Potential

by BirdBoneGirl



Series: Highlander Coda Fics [2]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 05:06:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17481755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BirdBoneGirl/pseuds/BirdBoneGirl
Summary: Duncan paints Methos's nose which ends in a paint battle. Despite the potential they decide to suppress their feelings and move on.This is from the Episode Chivalry and starts at the 35:50 mark.





	Potential

Duncan painted the tip of his nose to shut him up. Methos looked so indignant he had to laugh. 

“Very funny, MacLeod,” Methos said.

“I think you look better like that,” He quipped, grinning broadly. 

Methos’ eyes narrowed as he advanced on him. It was all he could do to leap up in time from where he leaned against the railing. He slowly sidestepped out of the away, paintbrush held out like a dagger. Methos, while not as practiced in the dueling arts, still had a fighters grace as he came at him, his steps precise and measured with his own paintbrush, dripping with primer, brandished like a sword. 

The fight didn’t last long. Methos’ goal was simply to get paint any and everywhere. He stuck out, Duncan parried, knocking his paintbrush wielding hand to one side, Methos dodged and knocked a paint can over at him, coating one pant leg. Indignant, Duncan threw aside his own brush and grabbed the man by the lapels, thrusting him up side the house with a satisfying thud. 

Methos lifted his arms wide in surrender, grinning from ear to ear, though he still gripped the offending brush in his hand. Duncan keeping his hands on his shoulders to keep him in his place. 

“That, wasn’t very nice,” Duncan said. 

“Who said I was nice?” Methos asked, tilting his head with a lopsided grin. His eyes flashed with some great mischief. Too late he saw he should have grabbed the man by the wrists, as the bristles collided wetly with his cheek. “There. Now we’re even. “ He said with great satisfaction. Duncan reached up to grab his wrist, slamming it, though not too hard, to the wall so he would drop his weapon. Methos dropped the paintbrush, licking his lips playfully as he did so. 

“You done?” Duncan asked him, eyebrows raised. 

Methos looked around, up to the side and down at Duncan’s hands pinning him and then at his face, lingering on the cheek now painted white. He nodded, frowning. “Are you?” He asked. It was a challenge. 

Duncan suddenly realized just how close he was holding the man. Just how warm his hands were, how close his face was to his. He felt heat rise in his chest, suddenly not able to look away from his tongue gliding over his lips. 

As he contemplated all this information, Methos pushed up from the wall. Or was it that he pushed up against him? Duncan pushed him back, keeping him pinned to the wall. Methos’s grin widened. 

“Oh,” his eyebrows raised high, “You aren’t done with me yet.”

Duncan’s breathe quickened. “No, I’m not.”

Their eyes locked. Time seemed to stop for a moment, the birds stopped chirping; the wind stopped rustling the trees. They stood locked to each other eyes and body against the side of the half painted house. Methos’s eyes were all challenge again. His smile gone, but not forgotten. 

Duncan thought he now knew Methos well enough to know he wouldn’t make the first move. The man was insufferable in that way. Not when he could wait for someone else to make the move first. The man was a strategist and wouldn’t make a move until he was completely sure. Right now they both knew they teetered on the edge of something. 

So. If this was going to happen, Duncan MacLeod would have to make the first move. Simple as that. 

So he did. 

Without another thought Duncan leaned forward and pressed his lips to his. 

The man may not be extraordinarily forward, but he wasn’t slow to respond. His lips immediately took up the call and kissed him back, tilting his head, his lips moving over his smoothly. He tasted of beer and shaving cream. His skin was firm, and clean. 

Duncan let up the pressure he had been using on his wrists and Methos’s hand flew up to cup his painted face, pulling him in for a deeper kiss and a small little moan. Duncan stepped back and away, breaking the kiss. 

Methos leaned up against the house, arching his back and breathing heavily. They both stood away from each other a moment and appraised the situation. 

Methos broke the awkward silence. “Well, Highlander. You are full of surprises.”

“I could say the same about you.”

The moment lasted too long and Methos laughed and shook his head. “Come on, we better finish painting before the brushes dry.”

Duncan felt a pang of regret at the rejection, but nodded agreement.


End file.
